Linia Took in a Child - Chapter 4: The Pursuer (6)

By the time dawn broke, the mansion was quiet. A dozen or so servants had already departed. Having packed their belongings into carts the previous evening, they boarded three carriages and left in the early hours.

Russell was the last to leave, stepping into the final carriage where Linia, Sophie, and Bessie were already seated. Sophie, though confused about why they had to leave so abruptly, remained silent, sensing the heaviness in Linia’s expression.

As the carriages disappeared into the distance, Trakan gave the signal to commence the operation.

The knights, who had been stationed around the estate since before dawn, moved swiftly. The mansion was surrounded within moments.

Trakan, clad in his armor, led a group of elite knights inside. They moved quickly and with precision, heading straight for the third-floor room where their target was said to be staying.

Reaching the door, Trakan motioned to his men.

With a single powerful strike, the locked door was shattered. The knights stormed inside.

The room was empty.

The only movement came from the faintly swaying curtains, stirred by the breeze through the slightly ajar window.

“He fled in the night…”

Trakan muttered a curse under his breath, furious that their carefully orchestrated plan had been for nothing. The knights scattered, combing the mansion room by room, but it quickly became apparent—Edwin Schpenhardt was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, Trakan sent one of his men to inform the Damon family of the fugitive’s escape and to ensure that the estate’s security was tightened.

“It’s not too late,” he barked. “Start with the surrounding mountains. Search immediately!”

The Damon estate was surrounded on all sides by rugged mountains. Even if Edwin had fled the night before, he couldn’t have gotten far.

Once supplies were gathered—horses, provisions, and blankets—Trakan divided his men into four groups. Each was assigned a direction: north, south, east, and west. Trakan himself led the western search party into the dense, sprawling forest.

The mountain terrain quickly proved to be as challenging as it was vast. The deeper they ventured, the steeper and more treacherous the paths became. The dense underbrush slowed their progress further, and frustration mounted as hours passed without any sign of their target.

By the time the sun began its descent, the forest was bathed in fiery hues of red and orange. The oppressive darkness of night was creeping closer.

Trakan pulled the reins of his horse, bringing it to a halt. Dismounting, he turned to his ten men, their weary faces a testament to the grueling five-hour search.

“We camp here for the night,” he announced.

The knights wasted no time, tying their horses to nearby trees and fanning out to gather firewood and water. Trakan leaned against a tree trunk, allowing himself a brief moment of rest.

The forest was alive with sound—the burble of a nearby stream, the rustle of leaves, the calls of distant birds. Yet, to Trakan, every noise felt grating, his nerves stretched taut from the day’s fruitless efforts.

He pressed a hand to his temples, rubbing the tension from his brow, when he heard something unusual.

A sound, faint at first, but growing louder.

Trakan stood abruptly, every muscle on edge. Moments later, a piercing scream tore through the forest, loud enough to send a chill down his spine.

Then, as suddenly as it had erupted, the scream was silenced.

An eerie stillness settled over the forest, even the background chatter of nature vanishing as though it, too, had been swallowed by the oppressive quiet. Trakan’s heart hammered in his chest as he drew his sword and sprinted toward the source of the noise.

He didn’t have to go far to find the answer.

Ahead, a knight stood frozen, his face twisted in terror. Opposite him was a man—no, the man.

“Edwin Schpenhardt!”

Trakan’s voice trembled with rage and disbelief as he shouted the name.

Edwin turned lazily toward him, his crimson eyes gleaming. His hand was pressed firmly against the knight’s chest, right over the heart.

In one swift motion, Edwin withdrew his hand. The knight’s head began to cave inward, his skull collapsing in on itself as if crushed by some unseen force. Blood oozed and poured as his lifeless body slumped to the ground, his face unrecognizable.

Trakan froze, his steps faltering. He couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed.

“What… is this…”

Even as his grip tightened around his sword, his confidence wavered. He had never felt this helpless, not even in the heat of battle. The mage had been right—this wasn’t a fight they could win.

Trakan’s thoughts raced. He needed to warn the others. They had to retreat from the estate, regroup, and come up with a new plan. But before he could act, Edwin’s voice sliced through the silence.

“You’ve divided your men into four directions for the search, haven’t you?”

Trakan’s throat tightened. The man’s words were eerily accurate, as though he had plucked the strategy straight from his mind.

“That makes this the last group,” Edwin continued, his tone casual.

“The… last?” Trakan stammered, struggling to keep his composure.

“Congratulations. Once you’re dead, it’ll be a clean sweep.”

Edwin’s words were spoken lightly, almost jokingly, but the malice in his tone was unmistakable. He began walking toward Trakan, his steps deliberate and unhurried, a cruel smile curling his lips.

“You should’ve been more creative in your tactics. Did you really think I wouldn’t predict this? Sending your men into the mountains made them easy targets. You made my job far simpler than I expected.”

His voice was calm, but the underlying mockery stung.

“You could’ve spared your men from such meaningless deaths if only you’d thought this through.”

Trakan, enraged by Edwin’s chilling words, tightened his grip on his sword and prepared to strike. Yet, before he could make a move, an unseen force bore down on him with overwhelming pressure.

“Gah…!”

The weight pressed mercilessly on his body, forcing him to his knees. His sword slipped from his grasp, falling heavily to the ground. The earth beneath his feet cracked, deep footprints forming where the pressure was the strongest. Pain shot through his legs, and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out as it felt like the bones in his toes might snap at any moment.

Despite the agony, Trakan raised his head. Edwin had closed the distance between them and now stood directly in front of him.

Even in the encroaching darkness, Edwin’s features were disturbingly clear—his pale, angular face framed by silvery hair, his crimson eyes glowing faintly like embers. His expression was eerily neutral, betraying neither anger nor amusement. If anything, he seemed… bored.

Trakan forced out a question through gritted teeth, desperate to understand.

“Why…? Why are you killing all these people?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly. “Killing all these people… suddenly?”

He corrected the knight with an almost casual air, the faintest smirk curling his lips. The soft moonlight caught on his silver hair, lending him an ethereal, almost otherworldly glow. But his crimson eyes, glinting with malice, shattered any illusion of serenity.

“You’ve misunderstood. This isn’t sudden. I’ve simply done what I’ve always done.”

Edwin stepped closer, lifting his hand with deliberate slowness. His palm hovered over Trakan’s chest, directly above his pounding heart.

“Exactly the way my dear grandfather taught me.”

His tone was calm, but beneath it simmered an unmistakable hatred. It was a loathing so deep that it seemed to radiate off him, tainting the very air around them.

Trakan’s instincts screamed the truth to him: this was the end. He was going to die here, at the hands of this monster.

* * *

Two days had passed since the news of Edwin Schpenhardt’s escape reached them. The knights had pursued him beyond the Damon estate, yet no updates had come back. Russell, struggling to suppress the growing unease in his heart, found himself thinking constantly of Linia.

She had been a shadow of herself ever since learning the truth about Ruin’s identity. During the three meals they’d shared since arriving at the temporary refuge, she had barely touched her food, her expression distant and sorrowful. Whether it was the betrayal of someone she’d trusted or the fear of his return that haunted her, she appeared emotionally drained.

Russell did his best to reassure her, repeating again and again that she was safe here. Security had been tightened considerably. Guards patrolled the corridors nightly, and a sentry was posted outside her door at all times.

Still, the thought of doing more lingered in his mind. “Maybe a gift would cheer her up…”

The last time he had given her a bouquet of flowers, she had smiled—a rare and genuine expression of joy. If he could find something just as thoughtful, perhaps it might lighten her spirits.

But what?

It had to be something personal but not overwhelming. Something simple but heartfelt. Lost in thought, Russell decided he needed advice.

Leaving his room, he made his way downstairs to find Susan, the head maid. She had helped him before when he’d sought the perfect flowers for Linia.

Descending to the first floor, Russell spotted her inspecting the cleanliness of the hallways.

“Susan, could I trouble you for a moment?” he called out.

“Young Master?” Susan turned to him, her expression momentarily puzzled. She eyed his attire carefully, her brows knitting together.

“Is something wrong with my clothes?” Russell asked, glancing down at himself.

“Not at all. It’s just… I thought you changed quickly. Earlier, I could’ve sworn I saw you wearing a coat,” she said, her tone tinged with confusion.

Russell blinked, equally puzzled. “I’ve been wearing this since this morning.”

“Oh, my mistake then,” Susan said, shaking her head. “I could’ve sworn I saw you going upstairs earlier, though you were in a coat at the time…”

Her words lingered in Russell’s mind. He hadn’t left his room for hours since lunch, so whoever she had seen couldn’t have been him.

Susan interrupted his thoughts. “What did you want to ask me, sir?”

Snapping back to the moment, Russell quickly explained his idea of finding a gift for Linia. As they discussed options, he dismissed the earlier oddity, deciding that Susan must have mistaken him for his brother. Their similar builds and hair colors made such confusion understandable.

“Thank you for your suggestions, Susan. I’ll choose something from these,” he said, offering her a grateful smile before heading back upstairs.

Feeling lighter after their conversation, Russell made his way to his room, intending to write down the ideas before he forgot them.

As he opened the door to his room and stepped inside, a faint sound of movement came from behind him.

Russell froze.

Turning slowly, he found himself staring at a figure that shouldn’t have been there.

A man stood in his room—a man wearing a coat, with dark hair, and piercing blue eyes identical to his own. It was as though he were looking into a mirror.

Goosebumps prickled over Russell’s skin.

The man smirked, stepping toward him with slow, deliberate movements. Russell instinctively backed away, but his retreat was halted by an unnatural force that gripped his ankle, rooting him to the spot.

The sensation was eerily familiar. He had felt it before. How could he forget?

Cold fear flooded his veins as the figure closed the gap between them. Russell’s lips moved before he could stop himself.

“Edwin…”

The man smiled wider, confirming his worst fears.

“An honor to be recognized,” Edwin replied coolly.

Russell’s mind raced, the image of Linia flashing vividly. “You came here… for her, didn’t you?”

Edwin tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his crimson eyes.

“Linia needs me,” Edwin said calmly. “Without me, she’ll die.”

The cryptic statement froze Russell’s breath. “What… What are you talking about?”

Edwin’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a chilling tone. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be dead soon anyway.”

The weight of Edwin’s words hit Russell like a blow. His chest tightened as his heart pounded furiously. He was acutely aware of how helpless he was in this moment.

“Starting to worry about yourself now, are we?” Edwin teased, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

Before Russell could respond, Edwin reached out, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. The casual gesture belied the overwhelming power that radiated from his touch.

“Don’t worry,” Edwin said softly. “I’ll treat her more gently than you ever could.”

Russell’s throat tightened. He could barely breathe.

“By the time I’m through, she’ll love me instead.”